08-18-2020, 10:16 AM
is this the end of everything?
STRAIA
or is it just a new way to bleed?
It is true that she has never really served anyone but herself. She has served, yes, as all must at some point in life. But there was always an end in mind, her own purpose to the service. It is no different now. She offers service to the one she chose, the one she believed most likely to use the power Straia now wielded according to it’s worth.
Straia chuckles at the mention of the tree. ”The tree is a parlor trick,” she says with a dismissive tone. Though the tree was very much her soul manifested into reality, it was nothing compared to what she could do. The only benefit of the tree is the magic it gave to others was not truly tied to her in that it did not tire her and would never be dependent on her. It would live even if she chose not to again. ”I am capable of much greater things than the small gifts of the tree. Though magic is not truly what makes us capable.” There is something knowing in her voice. Sochi had not sought the tree. Once, Straia had been traitless, born plain and simple as many were at the time. It had not stopped her then.
”Indeed, I have never liked strings. But we are all limited, in some way or another. It is a matter of being clever…” She trails off, a wicked little grin on her face. ”We are not women meant to bend the knee, but that does not mean we cannot serve one another all the same.” Exactly how, she was not sure, though perhaps there would be a way for them to have what they sought and help each other to achieve it.
Sochi asks about the Chamber, and Straia smiles, nostalgic and perhaps a bit more horse-like than her other gestures. There’s almost a hint of the girl she once was, long ago, in that smile. Around them, she paints the Chamber. The misty pine forest of her home springs to life around them. A few squirrels chitter in the branches overhead. Atrox’s heart beats a steady rhythm beneath their feet. In the distance, the pine tree still burns, for it had been a part of the Chamber. It was the piece she’d brought back with her now.
”My father, king before I took his crown, let the Chamber fester and rot. I built it back, bringing life to the forests and fear to the lips of those who spoke its name.” She paints the picture as she talks, bringing to life the Beqanna of old, a place that still deserved to live far more than whatever it had become in more recent years. ”All good things must end, though. I stepped down when I had done what I set out to accomplish, and let myself disappear from memory. The Chamber too, I suppose, has been forgotten by most. Though the heart you feel beneath our feet belonged to that panther you once fought. The Beqanna of old was a beautiful, magical place. It was not as it is now. Such a dead land now.” She trails off, the illusion of her old home fading and leaving them back in the Cove. What a shame, what Beqanna has become.
Straia chuckles at the mention of the tree. ”The tree is a parlor trick,” she says with a dismissive tone. Though the tree was very much her soul manifested into reality, it was nothing compared to what she could do. The only benefit of the tree is the magic it gave to others was not truly tied to her in that it did not tire her and would never be dependent on her. It would live even if she chose not to again. ”I am capable of much greater things than the small gifts of the tree. Though magic is not truly what makes us capable.” There is something knowing in her voice. Sochi had not sought the tree. Once, Straia had been traitless, born plain and simple as many were at the time. It had not stopped her then.
”Indeed, I have never liked strings. But we are all limited, in some way or another. It is a matter of being clever…” She trails off, a wicked little grin on her face. ”We are not women meant to bend the knee, but that does not mean we cannot serve one another all the same.” Exactly how, she was not sure, though perhaps there would be a way for them to have what they sought and help each other to achieve it.
Sochi asks about the Chamber, and Straia smiles, nostalgic and perhaps a bit more horse-like than her other gestures. There’s almost a hint of the girl she once was, long ago, in that smile. Around them, she paints the Chamber. The misty pine forest of her home springs to life around them. A few squirrels chitter in the branches overhead. Atrox’s heart beats a steady rhythm beneath their feet. In the distance, the pine tree still burns, for it had been a part of the Chamber. It was the piece she’d brought back with her now.
”My father, king before I took his crown, let the Chamber fester and rot. I built it back, bringing life to the forests and fear to the lips of those who spoke its name.” She paints the picture as she talks, bringing to life the Beqanna of old, a place that still deserved to live far more than whatever it had become in more recent years. ”All good things must end, though. I stepped down when I had done what I set out to accomplish, and let myself disappear from memory. The Chamber too, I suppose, has been forgotten by most. Though the heart you feel beneath our feet belonged to that panther you once fought. The Beqanna of old was a beautiful, magical place. It was not as it is now. Such a dead land now.” She trails off, the illusion of her old home fading and leaving them back in the Cove. What a shame, what Beqanna has become.
@[Sochi]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission